Running Through the Jungle
by GoldeneyedJohnnycake
Summary: Soda deals with his postwar life. One-shot.


**A/N:** ** _S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination. Creedence Clearwater Revival owns the rights to their songs. This story does not necessarily reflect my opinion on the VA._**

 _'_ _Better run through the jungle, whoa, and don't look back to see.'_ I woke up from the nightmare soaked in sweat, clutching my Ka-Bar in my fist. The Huey blades I'd heard were "Just the clock," I let out a nervous laugh, "it was just the clock, Soda. Just the damned clock." Shuffling across the room, I ripped the batteries out of that clock so the helicopters wouldn't return. "I'm in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Back in the good ol' U.S.A. Back home where I belong; I've been back for sixteen years, and the war's over." After stuffing the Ka-Bar back under my pillow, I pulled a blanket around my shoulders to stop the shaking and ran a clammy hand through my hair as I walked to the kitchen for coffee. And alcohol.

 _Why do my dreams always feature Creedence songs?_ I had no answer for myself quite yet, but it was probably at the bottom of the Irish coffee. I muted the TV and settled into a daze while infomercials plastered their products across the screen. I find those soothing, but I think everyone else is annoyed by them. The clock on the wall read 3.02 AM. _Too early to call anyone._ I took a swig of my cocktail, wrinkling my nose as some of it dripped down my chin. _Wonder if Pony's kid is awake too._ That kid was something else, that's for sure. I've never seen that permanent wild fear in anyone else but old war vets like me, but he was young enough to where it probably wouldn't affect him too bad. _Maybe he's freaking out like I did. Poor kid, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. No one deserves flashbacks and nightmares._ Not even the VC.

I drained my drink as a woman shared the benefits of a non-stick pan like no other. It was even dishwasher safe! And, it was such a great deal that you could get _two_ of them for only _three_ payments of $39.95 (plus shipping and handling). Why wasn't I calling right away? Did I want to miss out on this terrific deal? _I'll show you a terrific deal. Try watching your one of your buddies drown in the mud while you're getting pelted with enemy fire everywhere you turn. Then, hold your hand over his mouth and nose, and-_ "Soda?" Darry yawned, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the overenthusiastic colors and light.

"Shh. They'll hear you." I was thinking of my friend. The one who'd drowned. He screamed so loud, they'd hear him for sure.

"No, they'd sleep through the apocalypse. What're you doing up?"

"My clock was too loud. Woke me up." I lit a cigarette, holding the pack toward Darry as he sat down.

"No, thanks. It's too early. Have another dream again?"

"Why?" I liked watching the smoke curl in the light.

"'Cuz we're going in for your appointment this morning, and the doctor will wanna know."

"He can't fix a damned thing; least of all, me."

"Well, it's obvious that you can't fix yourself either, Soda. Was that your first drink?"

"Why d'you care?" I tipped the mug, wishing there'd been more in there that I'd missed.

"Because you're my brother, and I don't wanna see you drink yourself to death over a war that hasn't been fought for fifteen years."

"Sixteen years, five months, and twenty-three days." I didn't make eye contact, but I knew he was angry.

"Go to bed, and no more alcohol till at least a more reasonable hour, Soda."

I couldn't sleep. Knowing that I had that stupid appointment with the VA had taken all the exhaustion away. Well, the coffee and nightmares helped too. I laid on the damp pillow and stared at the popcorn ceiling. It was dappled with little shadows, like my tent had been before the hut was built. I couldn't see the stars anywhere, but I couldn't then either. Moving to the window, I opened the shades to let in the orange glow of a streetlamp. Still, the stars were AWOL. _Maybe KIA._

I was grumpy at the breakfast table, shaking slightly, and I hoped that Darry hadn't seen me spike my coffee. I stirred hot chocolate mix into it too. A regular GI mocha. I ate my eggs plain because the jelly was gone, and then got dressed. I almost thought of wearing my uniform for a laugh, but none of them would get the joke. The whole VA was a joke that they weren't in on. _Maybe I'll just wear the jacket. It looks like it's gonna rain today._

"And have you been suffering from any disturbances, such as nightmares, flashbacks, or insomnia?" The doctor's mustache made him look like an aging walrus.

"Some. Not many." I lied. It was easier to tell half-truths with these guys, otherwise they'd catch on.

"How frequently do these occur?" Doctor Walrus scribbled something on his pad. Maybe it was for the carpenter.

"About once a month, give or take."

He gave me a prescription slip for something, his handwriting was awful, and I stuffed it into my pocket. I've seen what those drugs can do- I'd become a zombie. Always smiling, even when I'm sad. I don't want that, I just want those memories out of my head; and for me, alcohol and infomercials work just fine. For Steve, it's heroin, Two-Bit has women of both the day and night variety, and at least I'm not like them. I don't shy away from running through the jungle.


End file.
